Mourning Knots
by MorriganFearn
Summary: When the Siblings returned from Konoha he was not there. Coffee, mourning, and moving out followed, not necessarily in that order. A Break-verse Sand sibs-centric one shot.


**Author's Note:** Takes place within the "Break-verse" but it is not necessary to have read Break Down to know what is happening. If you want to have read Break Down, of course, feel free. I like it when people read my stories. Set in Suna after the return from the Chuunin exams.

* * *

**Mourning Knots**

"Your father was a great man," Baki ended the conversation sharply, slashing verbally at Kankuro's grin. It vanished, and the mentor left the siblings in the corridor outside the Kazekage's apartments. Tsusho lingered. Kankuro's eyes moved straight to him, the true father of his ambitions.

"I'm not going to argue that," the puppeteer replied, shrugging with the elegance of swirling black. Kankuro sometimes wondered if Tsusho had a body under the robes he wore, or if he was really smoke. "Horrible person, of course. But great man. He won't be remembered that way, and its a shame."

Gaara cocked his head to the left, looking at Tsusho blankly. Kankuro bit his tongue, about to warn his teacher. Gaara wasn't going to hurt them. Not now. He looked empty, like a carton full of strawberries near Temari. Devoured.

"He managed to let someone impersonate him for months," Temari said quietly, her voice hard. It was as if Gaara's anger had transferred to Kankuro's sister. "We almost were catapulted into a war we couldn't survive. Suna couldn't survive. Because of a Leaf and against the Leaf."

"Irony works in marvelous ways," Tsusho agreed. "We would have survived."

"Because of Gaara?" Temari asked scornfully, looking terrified a moment later. All eyes fixed on the boy wearing his father's face. Sand shifted, about to reach out, and then Gaara sucked it back inside himself.

"I'm hungry," he walked past them, and the humans drew back instinctively.

"He was a great man, Temari," Tsusho said quietly. "Don't be angry at him because he's dead. There are lots of things that you can be angry about for better reasons."

"I'm not," Temari replied, her teeth clenched.

At the end of the corridor, Gaara paused, as though he didn't know the way to the kitchen. Kankuro looked at him over the distance. The youngest had his eyes locked on the eldest, and suddenly Kankuro understood something to do with teddy bears and grief. He was locked out, while Temari worked her way through the storm. Had Gaara found solid ground before the rest of them? Or was he as lost as Temari? Three killers and in some ways they were just kids.

Not that the Kazekage ever knew that. None of those great leaders ever knew it. Hadn't the Hokage said that he let the deaths of children slide for his precious genius? Their yondaime had made Naruto in Gaara's image. Take one baby, one curse seal, and one life. Mix them, voila: weapon. Kunai forged. Congratulations.

"What's so great about him, anyway?" Kankuro asked contemptuously. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Tsusho looked sidelong at his student, angry protegee, and raised a pained eyebrow on the scarred face. "As with all, so is it now? You never fought with him. None of you never saw him in his element. We were proud to serve him. It was like seeing the storm god descend in our midst. His master, now; the Third was a great man and a great human being. But our Kazekage never pretended to be a good human being. He always thought of himself as a weapon."

"Hardly human himself," Kankuro muttered, flinching, ready to be hit or yelled at by Temari. She was gone.

Tsusho put a gloved hand on the young puppeteer's shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you to get something good to eat. You can stay with the Troupe for the next few days."

They walked away from the red seals locking the Kazekage's door, following Gaara's route past the kitchen. About to descend the stairs Kankuro saw Temari at the sink drinking tea. Her eyes sparkled brightly, although she spared a glare for him. Tsusho passed Kankuro a scrap of cloth. "I noticed the number the bug boy did on your puppets. Just in case you need to polish them."

"Yeah," Kankuro passed the kitchen, and touched the cotton to his eyes to check the softness.

Temari watched him go. Gaara watched Temari. Her teal eyes shifted to his. "Do you want some tea?" she asked awkwardly.

He looked away. "No."

"Oh," the afternoon sunlight slanted through the window.

Odd that it was one of Suna's calm hot days. Leaf had always had good weather in Temari's estimation, but Suna without a sandstorm on such a momentous day seemed odd. The weather shared Tsusho's dramatic flair normally.

_iFlowers carpeted the desert on Gaara's birthdays./i_

"Coffee, then?" Temari asked, trying to extend the olive branch before the little brother she had known could reassert himself. One day she would wake up and it wouldn't be safe to be in his presence. Once more. "We could read our futures when we're done." The childish suggestion was out, swimming around the kitchen before Temari could stop it.

Gaara regarded her silently, and then turned away.

"Silly idea, you're right," Temari commented brusquely. "Well, I'm going--,"

"I just wanted to get the cups down," Gaara stated.

"Oh, sure," Temari replied, breathing out.

She reached for the press. Gaara knew where the powdery grounds were. She wondered how often he has been in this room since Yashamaru tried to kill him. More than any other place, the kitchen was their uncle's domain. He raised Gaara in this room. Did Gaara see it that way? This might just be another room to him.

Temari decided she didn't want to try too hard to see things from Gaara's perspective. He was simple. Complex. And his perspective, from what they had been able to pry from his awkward sentences, was in the middle of Shukaku's Breath right now, figuratively. Temari guessed that was better than seeing the world though those star wheeling eyes. The times when she understood that perspective scared her.

"We can see the future after drinking coffee?" Gaara asked suddenly, pouring the water that Temari had boiled for the tea on top of the grounds.

"No, it's just—well, something the women do, I suppose," Temari replied, shrugging. "Sometimes, in kunochi training we do other things than learn how to kill. How to look like a civilian. Stuff like that."

"Oh."

The spoon clinked as Gaara stirred the grounds, more experienced than Temari, she realized. How normal was she, if Gaara, the demon vessel of Suna, knew how to make coffee like someone at a shop? How normal could he have been?

"How do people not know you're a ninja?" he asked, innocently as any other genin.

"It's not like I wear my headband on those missions," Temari replied, trying not to smile. She didn't want to smile right now.

"But mesh," Gaara pointed out with painful logic. "And senbon. Kunai. Your fan."

"You learn how to disguise those things," Temari replied after a few moments of struggling with her face.

"Oh, like my sand double," Gaara said, immediately satisfied.

He really is my younger brother, Temari thought. She leaned against the counter. A few minutes wait with Gaara didn't seem so bad now. If worst came to worst she could always set him to some task requiring mind numbing concentration, and no social skills. Uncle Yashamaru had asked their father to sort office supplies in those situations.

The pain of the thought hit her like a spike through the stomach. A painful punch, and then the slow ache of all too human poison seeping into the tissues. When she had been younger, Uncle had brushed her hair. She had been sitting near the window, eating candied fruits that he had made as a treat. She had been home as a present. Baki's present for her father. You may see the brilliant girl you helped to bring into the world. He was much kinder than anyone would have thought, Baki was.

No wonder he had stalked off. Probably going to get drunk. He was the last of them, now. Even Tsusho was younger. He'd been made chuunin only after their parents began courting, he'd said. Father was old fashioned like that. You had to use the word "courting" when Temari and Kankuro would have said "fucking" in coarse unison, and then rolled their eyes at each other. Gaara, if Temari sat down with a dictionary, and defined every appropriate word to the conversation, might have come up with "dating." He certainly wouldn't have bothered with the anachronism.

That's what the ruling council had liked about Father, wasn't it? He was dangerous, but he was also conservative. And he hated Leaf. Why had Orochimaru killed him? Temari supposed she would never know. Possibly because Father was too stubborn to ever not lead. Her memories told her of a tall, distant figure, standing on rooftops, looking into the sky, before sweeping his gaze over Suna.

Farseeing, strong. Everyone had told her that when growing up. She was the daughter of a beautiful woman and a strong, far sighted man. Then Gaara went out of control. The respect dwindled into fear. Sometimes pity for her and the rest of her family. The Kazekage hadn't really been popular again until Gaara proved that he could do more than kill the children of the Sand.

Father had really died.

"You think you'll grow any more?" Temari asked suddenly, making Gaara nearly jump.

His head turned away from watching the sediment float and sink in the brown-black liquid. The black rimmed eyes looked confused. Such a question had never been posed to him before, and he needed time to think about it. The idea seemed impossible. Temari was the tallest. Always had been. Kankuro had suddenly grown several inches—he'd had to modify his puppets on the day Gaara killed the assasin who could detach his own body parts. That one had been particularly annoying. Gaara remembered coming back bloody and finding Kankuro with all his equipment over the stairs, complaining to Baki about how essential the illusion was. What ever the illusion was. Gaara had almost crushed both against the wall.

i_And aren't you glad you didn't?/i_ irrepressible and comfortingly annoying, the voice echoed in his head.

Shut up. He was still trying to work that out. Shut up. Shut up.

Shukaku shifted unpleasantly in his sleep, thinking thoughts about sake, and causing Gaara to jump in front of the voice, his arms outstretched protectively. One day Shukaku would devour this little hope, because he always did, but Gaara would stop that day coming for as long as he could.

i_You won't get rid of your memories that easily. C'mon, we're stronger than this,/i_ the face speaking at his back was his, of course. It had six whisker marks that belonged to someone else, but it was his, black eyes and all. Minus the smile. The smile was not Gaara's. He just knew that his muscles could never twitch that infectiously. But it might be nice to, one day.

"No," Gaara told Temari, going back to look at the floating coffee grounds. Temari would always be the tallest, after all. She was older than either him or Kankuro. "Is Kankuro going to grow?" he hoped that his voice didn't betray his worry at the idea.

"Probably," Temari shrugged. "He shot up like a weed over the winter, remember? He tried to ask Father for new shoes on your—birthday," Temari breathed out, realizing that she could indeed say it without dancing around the topic now. Funny.

"No," Gaara replied. "Father went to the North Mesa. He goes every year."

"Well, he asked some time around then," Temari shrugged, looking out the window. "I remember Kankuro was running around in the rain barefoot all the time because the water made his shoes shrink. I think Tsusho got him four pairs of shoes before summer."

Before we went to Konoha, both siblings thought. Before the world changed.

Gaara pressed down the grounds with the plunger, trying to not give away his shaking hands. Everything was changing, and while he wasn't certain, but maybe, he might like the end result, he knew most definitely that he did not like change. Change hurt and always meant Shukaku got one more piece that Gaara had claimed as his. Change had been bad since he knew that by going from awake to asleep the demon had control over his body.

i_It's not that bad,/i_ the sand chuckled. i_I make better use of your body, anyway. You couldn't live without me./i_

Shut up. Shut up. I don't know that. Shut up.

"Will you always be here?" Gaara asked Temari.

She flinched, and her teal gaze turned on him. Gaara didn't ask questions like that. i"How long before you die?" as the sand squeezed a green arm./i Kankuro would have laughed the question off with a joke about the kitchen. The nervousness in his voice would have screamed for some outside help to come, before he said the wrong thing.

"I don't know. Let's see what the coffee grounds say, huh?" Temari reached for the empty cups that Gaara had placed on the counter. "Probably shouldn't say that I'll be here forever when it turns out I get a shuriken in my jugular a month from now."

Gaara nodded, one shoulder angling upward as he lifted the plunger again. It made sense.

"But I think I'll stay in Suna until I die," Temari replied. "I mean, I don't know yet. Nothing's set in stone. I'll definitely be a Suna shinobi to the last, though.

She smiled slightly, to herself, remembering something Baki said. Honor or not, they were Suna shinobi, and no one could take their village from them. She knew he was wrong. They could deny the village. They had been for the last eleven years. But as long as she was a Suna shinobi there was hope that she could change the legacy.

Gaara watched the smile as he poured the coffee. Was she smiling at him? Was this a joke that he didn't get? The black rage rose against the back of those blue eyes. The flames of Shukaku's night. He could use the demon trapped inside of him against those who used him. That realization had been the best realization in his life. Why hadn't anyone ever sat him down and given him the lessons on people everyone else seemed to learn secretly, anyway? It didn't seem fair.

"Gaara," Temari's voice was not fearful, because she controlled her fear around him much better than Kankuro could. Fear just set Gaara off. If you couldn't hope for acceptance, take respect, and respect only came from fear. "Your sand."

He forced it to drop to the floor and lie there like a cowed dog.

Temari took a deep breath. "Thank you. What did I say?"

Gaara grabbed both cups and then handed her the one in his right hand gently. He could break the china on accident, after all. "Nothing. We can see the future when we drink coffee, right?"

"Oh no," Temari shook her head, sipping the bitter liquid. She waved a hand at Gaara. "C'mon, we'd better do it outside. The new residents would to have a fit about the carpets if I showed you what to do indoors."

Gaara felt relief as Temari said the magic words: "showed you what to do." If he was going to enter this strange, scary world without killing when it seemed like a way to pass the time, he was going to need a lot of instruction. Temari was good at instructing. She instructed Kankuro all the time. Or was that bossing? Gaara had never been told the distinction. He just knew that if he glared in the right way, Temari would shut up.

They walked down stairs, brother and sister. Gaara wondered if it would be wrong to ask for her help in compiling a book that could tell him everything he needed to know. The coffee didn't even so much as slosh in the two cups, and Temari began to explain as she walked:

"You see, in the Villages of Wind, there's this tradition that you drink coffee down to the sludge, and then throw the grounds on the floor of the cafe. Their shape will tell you a fortune—hopefully your own, but if you were thinking about the wrong person when you throw them, well, you might see that person's future instead. The women will have long conversations about what the grounds meant, so if you're impersonating a civilian, you can help blend in by hanging out at the coffee shop, and talking with the locals about the old wives' tale."

"I'll remember that," Gaara promised sincerely, taking the information in and not considering that the chances of his ever needing to dress up as a female civilian of the Wind country were minimal at best. Everyone who had trained him had always agreed that Gaara was never going to be good at subterfuge, unless they needed someone to go undercover in an insane asylum. He could probably pass for a mildly autistic boy very well.

"I'm, ah, sure you will," Temari replied, as they stepped out into a court yard hidden by a bubble of rock and other buildings. Sunagakure was filled with these little places. The alley at the far end would lead eventually to the market square.

Temari waited, watching Gaara, and sat down cross legged by the sheltered succulent that someone was growing once he chose it as his resting spot. The courtyards were communal, and they made nice areas for plants that could be killed by Shukaku's Breath, otherwise. Stripped of sap by the air itself. Now that was power.

Gaara sipped, looking thoughtfully at the black liquid, and white ceramic. "So, you know how to read the patterns?"

He read all of my strategies and fought me to a stand still, before just giving up. What would Suna have made of him? Quiet genius, hiding in apathy. He will be a terrifying man some day. He might already have been that, if he had grown up with us. Any sacrifice for the village. Father would have been proud to count him among our shinobi. I had wondered what he was thinking as he watched. Should have known that it was the snake in his skin even then. Father would have had a reaction to that loss.

"Not really. I thought that Yamada-sensei was making them up when she told us, actually," Temari shrugged. "I mean, I can remember them if I try, but," she caught Gaara staring at her as though she had two heads. "What?"

"It's important," Gaara managed after a long pause. He really did sound eleven years old now. "Someone was telling you something. It's important to listen."

This from a boy who she had never been certain if he heard half of what was said to him.

"Sometimes what people say isn't always worth hearing, you know," Temari pointed out. "People lie, or babble, or can't admit to themselves let alone other people--,"

"You can't know what's going on in people's heads if you don't i_listen_!"/i Gaara stressed hysterically. Sand began to whirl in agitation. Temari didn't have time to blink as his fist blurred to capture one of her kunai, and he violently stabbed it at his arm. Sand fountained, then dropped. Still. Temari stared at him.

"You probably shouldn't do that," the older sister said, once she found her voice, dried up in her throat.

The kunai fell with the clatter of black steel. Gaara shrugged, unmarked as always. "It was calming. Why don't you understand? You. Need. To. Listen. To. People." It held the force of an unbreakable law.

Were human actions really that incomprehensible to him? Temari wondered. They'd all grown up isolated. Why did it affect Gaara worse than the rest of them? Demon and fear aside, he'd been luckier than most of them, in some respects. Temari was one of the oldest of her generation. The most normal of her siblings, and she had spent most of her time with adults, learning their complex world of lies, treaties, and emotions. Kankuro had a few his own age who he could talk to, at least. There were at least seven children Gaara's age, still living. Kankuro understood other people.

Another thought assailed her. If Gaara listened i_all the time_/i what would he have learned about human behavior? Freak. Monster. You'll be killed each time I catch you, unless you catch me first. Defend yourself. Rule 25. What will you give me for these peaches, little girl? We are at war. Screams in the night from the practice rooms.

Temari very carefully did not shake her head. You couldn't boil Gaara down to a simple cause, like his misunderstanding alien perspective. Nothing was that simple. Well, Naruto, maybe, but even he must have complications to him, lines that he would cross in his innocent morality.

"I suppose it must help," she offered diplomatically, making peace with her brother.

"It does," Gaara replied fervently.

"Could you get the sand out of my coffee, then?" Temari asked hopefully.

Gaara looked completely strange, until she realized that might be what he looked like when he was feeling sheepish. Very strange. As though his muscles had all seized at an awkward moment. With a little effort, Gaara lifted out the now wet grains and left them in a thumb-sized pile near his knee. They both sipped their drinks, pretending that nothing had happened.

Temari was very difficult to understand, Gaara realized. She never said what she felt, at the same time as being entirely honest about what she thought. It was too difficult. Kankuro at least was open. Give him something to keep his hands moving and he was happy. Give him something to torment and he was happy. Kankuro was afraid of a lot, too. But he'd tell Gaara what was on his mind. Much simpler and easier to deal with. Temari kept a lot of things to herself.

"Do you miss our father?" Gaara finally asked.

Temari looked at him over the rim of her cup, and then set it down decisively. "I don't know."

Her reply was too fast, too ready. Like Kankuro's grin in the face of the news. Gaara didn't like it, and he glared. For once Temari did not seem to be cowed. Brazen, Father had called her. Gaara had over heard him talking to Baki about a dangerous mission that Temari had been on. Tsusho did not approve. Temari had been too young. Their father had simply said she was brazen enough for three girls her age. Adult enough to kill, too.

Adult. Would she leave? Would Kankuro leave? He needed them in this strange new world he was trying to build. Temari, adult and ineffable. Kankuro, simple and ready to listen. Temari didn't always listen. Good to know. Terrifying that she knew all the answers already, though.

"I really don't know, Gaara. I didn't really know him."

"You were the favorite," Gaara accused.

"He's been dead longer than it took his body to die," Temari shot back.

The was a crumbling sensation where Gaara usually felt pain. His father had been different once. Probably when their mother was still alive. Temari had always known that, hadn't she?

"But then I was born," Gaara said hollowly.

"But then he killed Mother," Temari corrected, not missing a beat.

Gaara didn't think he felt any better after that revelation. He'd been blamed, after all, whichever one of them did it. No smoke without fire, that old woman had said. Her voice had drifted up onto the bakery roof where he had watched, waiting. Why did he watch over Suna all the time anyway? Did those nightly panoramic views ever help him stave off Shukaku taking over? Did he like taunting himself with what he couldn't have? Had he been building up anticipation for the day he would kill them all?

i_Nothing wrong with learning something new,_/i the voice of the forest spoke in his head. i_You learn something new every day, right? Naruto wants to be the next Hokage so he can earn respect and love. But he has that already. You know that. You know it's possible for us, too. We don't have to love just you any more. Watch over Suna. Love it like Naruto loves Konoha. You'll see in time, I'm right, and he's wrong. Just give everyone a second chance._/i

"Do you miss him?" Temari cut through his silence.

Cold fury and hate always swirling in those frozen eyes when Gaara looked up. His father was either in mourning black, or Kage white. There were days Gaara was certain that his father couldn't even see him for the monster that he was. All of those assassins, and uncle Yashamaru, thrown at Gaara as some sort of win-win test. What did not kill Gaara made him stronger, and what killed Gaara paid the blood sacrifice for the mother the Kazekage had loved to death.

But there were moments he had not fully been able to describe until Lee cracked his outer shell. Moments where he'd seen his father crack. Where the darker red hair and the height and the eyes had suddenly been a mirror of what was happening inside him. Shukaku always laughed when Gaara thought about it. And Gaara had all of the access to the books and toys he ever could have wanted. Those books had been useful during the long nights.

Philosophy, history, chemistry, physics, epic sagas; he had had the run of the library from the most evil summoning contract to the collection of folk songs that had been labeled: "To my dearest and only son. Your forgetful mother." He did not understand the musical notation, but some nights he had pretended that woman was the Mother in the pictures left in corners where the Kazekage couldn't see them. That she had once seen him as something more than the tool of her revenge. He should have asked his father where that particular collection came from. He regretted that, and that was part of mourning, right?

"There are things I should have asked," Gaara replied at last.

She sipped her coffee, nodding.

"That's how I think I feel. I'm really not sure yet."

Maybe she really didn't know. A Temari without answers. What a scary thought.

"What would you ask?" Gaara asked desperately.

Her smile was bitterly wry. "I don't know. Stuff. Odd, but I think if I had known that he was going to die, I would have asked braver questions. Like why we couldn't renegotiate with Konoha to bring back the traders and the military contracts. Their Sandaime wasn't a good man, but I don't honestly think his damned traditional soul would have liked the idea of Suna going under."

"But if we had, I never would have," Gaara trailed off, looking past Temari. He stood suddenly. "I'm finished with my coffee."

"One sec," Temari rose, chugging the last mouthful. "We've got to do this together."

"Why?" Gaara asked, bemused. He looked at the coffee cup. Temari must have not realized how much magic these things contained. Or perhaps she didn't know the lack of understanding that he had when it came to spells like this.

Temari rolled her eyes. Gaara was such a kid. Weird to think, but he was. She looked down at the cup. "You need to think about yourself and your future, first. Count to three, and then toss. Simple--,"

"You didn't make me a cup?" Kankuro managed to sound hurt as he stuffed his second dango into his mouth. The lone sticky ball slid towards his fingers as he chewed. He bit into that one, and walked over to his other siblings.

"You were getting doener," Temari accused, looking at him dryly, as Gaara moved over to make room for him.

Kankuro saw the movement, and flicked his fingers at Gaara, shaking his head. "I'm good." Kankuro may have been more willing to understand Gaara, but he couldn't exactly scrub the images of death in sand away from his brain quite as well as everyone else seemed to do. A cautious distance was all that he was comfortable with right now. He turned his purple lined face to Temari. "And for your information, Tsucho bought enough for all of us to have dinner."

"If he hadn't kept it out of your reach you would have eaten it all," Temari pointed out dryly.

Gaara had to nod. Kankuro inhaled food, especially the spiced lamb and goat meat which he loved. Gaara, brought up on Yashamaru's Rice Country cooking, preferred those exotic foods over the Suna staples.

"Ha," Kankuro rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm supposed to tell you: we can put you up for the next couple of weeks. One of the Troupe cells has a mission in Rain. Tsusho isn't expecting them back."

Gaara looked up from the sludge left over in his cup. "Why do we need to be put up?" he asked, bewildered.

"They're kicking us out of the spire to make room for the next Kazekage, I guess," Temari shrugged.

Gaara felt cold at the base of his spine. Change. A new room. New people. Old whispers.

"Did Tsusho say who the next Kazekage was?" Temari asked practically.

"No," Kankuro shrugged. "He wouldn't even say if one was selected. The two most likely candidates are Gakin and Hoeki, from the gossip. Strongest leaders we have, now. Gakin's the head of the ANBU, they say."

"Not a likely choice, though," Temari replied. "We don't have anyone yet who could replace him."

"I killed Hoeki's daughter," Gaara commented.

"Yeah," Kankuro replied slowly. "Tsusho said that was the other consideration. He's still got a lot of influence. Whoever the next Kazekage is, he's going to try to make certain you aren't a target. Baki, too."

"Why?" Gaara looked surprised.

"Well, he's now heard from both me and Baki what happened in Konoha," Kankuro shrugged uncomfortably. "And he's always been, well, he's got a soft spot for children, as far as I can see. Maybe it's his way of mourning. Who knows? Even on a light day, my master isn't exactly the most transparent of men."

"What's it like dealing with him?" Temari asked wistfully, wondering what it would have been like to have someone like Tsusho looking out for her growing up, rather than Baki's careless ignorance. For one thing, she doubted that three periods would have passed before she found out on accident from a Kunochi instructor that she hadn't ripped open the muscles down there with training.

"Pretty fun, actually. I kind of missed hanging out back stage and helping with stuff when I was graduated to cell work," Kankuro admitted, settling back on his feet, a calm smile on his face. "There's always something to do, you know? Wood to plane, pegs to make. The only down side is going through book after book on trap mechanisms. And learning all the control shit is a pain. But Tsusho said I was a natural," he actually beamed. "Some of my designs for new puppets are as good as the old masters, he says. I mean, I don't think they're that good, but that's what Tsusho says. It'll be i_years_/i before I will actually make any of them, of course. I haven't got all of the mechanics worked out with my chakra yet, for one, and I still have more trap ideas than I could possibly put into any amount of wood. I love traps," his grin was sharp with delight.

"Must be nice," Temari commented, taking a sip, and feeling sludgy grounds press against her upper lip. She quickly spat her accidental drink onto the dusty ground, making Gaara wonder if her future was going to be changed because of that. "I don't think I've been called talented since I learned wind techniques."

Both brothers stared at her. Really? Temari? She was the older one. Controlled where Gaara wasn't, intelligent where Kankuro blustered. Temari was the perfect shinobi, balanced and deadly as her kunai. Their father's favorite.

"Seriously?" Kankuro managed.

"Well, actually that Leaf boy called me impressive. I think. That day was kind of a blur," Temari admitted. She shrugged. "C'mon, people get compared by the cell they're in. I'm just the girl with a big fan compared to the paint happy weirdo, and Gaara. You're both miles ahead of me."

"My paint is symbolic," Kankuro defended, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever," Temari replied. "Want me to get a purple eyeshadow for your birthday, or do you want to switch it up with a little blue?"

"I so can still eat your dinner," Kankuro threatened.

Gaara was certain that Kankuro was being deadly serious, as the puppeteer only joked about death in Gaara's experience. "I'll give you some of mine," he put forward hesitantly, like a bag of medicine.

Temari and Kankuro shot him a confused look. Then Temari smiled. "We'll share it," she told him, opening the door. "Afterward, though, I'm going to tie Kankuro up, and toss him in the nearest lake. You can come, if you want."

"The nearest lake is three days away!" Kankuro exclaimed dramatically. "And we'd have to go through Leaf territory to get to it. Don't you think that we got to know their ANBU well enough last time?!"

"It isn't prudent," Gaara agreed. "The Valley of the End is too far out of our way."

Shukaku, dozing, but awake, snickered at the conversation. i_Pathetic._/i

Wait, was that a joke? Gaara felt his mouth tighten. Had he missed out on some crucial element in the conversation again? Maybe if he was quiet he could catch up again. i_Or you could just hurt them. That would stop their laughter,_/i Shukaku suggested amicably.

"True," Temari sighed. "Well, Kankuro, you're spared. At least until I think of something."

"That'll be the day," Kankuro declared contemptuously. He looked at Temari. "You're a genius, too, you know. None of us know how to summon, and you were accepted by the weasel contract."

"Naruto does," Gaara mentioned suddenly.

Temari looked dryly at Kankuro, who passed the look on to Gaara. "Gaara," he said, surprised that he was addressing the scariest man he knew like the little boy he was: "I'm trying to buck our sister up a little. Comparisons to loud mouthed Konoha shinobi don't help."

"Any Konoha shinobi," Temari commented dryly. "But the loud ones especially."

Gaara was still, processing the information, and desperately coming up with a response. Was one even necessary? Well, he should give it a try. That would show his demon.

"Is there any other kind?" he tried, and was rewarded by Kankuro's bark of laughter. Temari grinned, and Gaara felt as though he was seeing the prettiest phase of the moon while eating rare sushi. He'd made a joke. Better yet, everyone understood why it was funny, and Shukaku wasn't the only one who knew how to deal with people.

With a flash of warm gold Temari turned her head. i_Well, they've got one other kind there. Geniuses. Lazy ones./i_ "So, Gaara, anyway, let's toss them on the ground, and then try to read the shapes. Kankuro can help. He's pretty good at making it sound real, even though I know he's inventing half of them."

_iInvention?/i_ Gaara thought, not liking the idea. However, he was making an effort, he reminded himself. Love only your. No. Yes. Love. Yes. Not yet. But perhaps it is safe. At least with them. The music in the Kazekage's library had once been given to someone with love in mind.

Coffee grounds splattered on the dusty flags of the courtyard. The three siblings squatted down, peering at them. Gaara raised his head first, looking questioningly at his older brother and sister.

"Well," Kankuro cleared his throat, looking at a round glistening puddle. "Gaara's didn't splash much. It's almost circular, actually. Maybe you'll become whole in the future."

"I'm not injured," the jinchurryki commented automatically, feeling hollow as he thought of the birthdays ahead of him. It never stopped hurting without wounds. Was that the lesson?

"Well, still, circular is better than the blood spots that Temari has got," Kankuro smiled nastily at his sister. "You'll die young."

"No," Temari rolled her eyes. "See those splashes are next to that one that looks like a serrated knife? And there's a deer sort of thing near by. Clearly I'm going to be hunting deer soon. Maybe our next mission will take us back into Leaf territory. Or we might end up in Cloud."

"Or you could get killed by a deer," Kankuro pointed out.

"A knife wielding deer? I'm pretty certain that bladey thing is important," Temari argued.

Kankuro was about to protest her interpretation, when an old woman looked in through the entry way. "What are you kids doing here? Scat," she told them firmly. "The Spire is off limits to non-council members."

Temari looked at the servant, her eyes cold. Before she could open her mouth, however, Kankuro stepped on her sandaled foot.

"Yeah, sure, old lady," he said flippantly. "We were told to come by and pick up our things. We'll be going in a sec. It's not like there's any hurry."

She stood watching the siblings suspiciously, as they picked up the cups, and trouped past her. Dust rose in Gaara's wake, covering her spitefully, but this woman was too old to really fear. She just gave him a look of annoyance, the elderly to the unappreciative young. Shaking a broom, she sent the miniscule grains flying, casting them about like seeds in the wind. She had seen much worse in her time.

"So, guess we're going to have to take you up on that offer," Temari commented, trying to sound her normal self.

"They'll figure out sooner or later that we're they're only hope for a new generation of Sand shinobi," Kankuro pointed out grimly.

"There are other genin," Temari replied shortly.

"Not enough," Kankuro replied, shrugging. "At some point we'll probably be the only ones left."

"You know what we need?" Temari commented boldly, "an academy like Konoha's. I did a bit of asking around while I was there. We could use something like that."

"Who would want to teach in it?" Kankuro grumbled. "You? Nah, we're well out of that."

"We're almost well out of the village," Temari countered. "What if the councilors don't share your theory that we have the best chance of surviving?"

"They want us gone," Gaara commented suddenly.

He was looking at the foot of the stairs leading up to the residential apartments. Carefully labeled boxes were stacked there. One for Gaara. Three for Temari. Kankuro walked over and casually opened one of Temari's boxes.

"Yup," he commented, to no one in particular. "I'd say that these were everything you two had here. Temari, I didn't know that you had eyeshadow."

"Tsusho went through a phase of giving me make-up on my birthday until he realized I didn't go through it very fast," Temari replied, her voice steady as a gulf opened under her. "Now he and Baki just save up for strawberries."

She walked woodenly over to the pile of boxes. Hefting them with a grunt, she craned her head around to look at Gaara. He stood there, looking at the boxes with pale eyes. His sand suddenly engulfed the cardboard, and bore it up.

"Want to get going?" Kankuro asked.

Gaara didn't even look back. "Yes."

* * *

Reviews are welcomed and wished for.

~ MF


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